Dennis Feels An Emotion
by Cardio Necrosis
Summary: While filming a movie, Dennis feels an emotion and goes to Dee to figure out why. Meanwhile, Charlie and Mac discuss love and the Waitress. (MacDennis, mild CharDee).


**Much thanks to my good friend Mark for checking this for typos!**

Dennis Feels An Emotion

5:25 PM

On a Saturday

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

It was a quiet night, with only two (definitely homeless) patrons. One of them was slowly nursing a beer in the darkest corner of the pub while the other sat at the bar, working on his second drink of the evening. He'd tipped Dee in loose change and used gum, so as far as Dee was concerned he was pretty nice for a filthy hobo. Neither of them minded her practising her Christopher Walken or checking her dating profiles on her laptop, so even if the one in the dark corner was absolutely pounding chub and failing at being low-key about it, it didn't bother her. If he jizzed on the bottom of the table, what difference was it to her? That was Charlie Work. He had a system to deal with crusty semen anyway.

Not that he was even around. Nope, as usual she was alone.

Frank was with Artemis at a "weekend retreat." There were only so many times the Gang could handle Frank's overdone air-quotes (and Charlie's naïve mimicry) before giving in, which he had clearly wanted them to do all along, and asking what the hell he actually meant. Dee wished they hadn't, because unlike the boners she surrounded herself with she was actually capable of adding two and two together and didn't need to be told it was an anonymous sex romp involving swings and sybians.

Earlier Mac and Dennis had left, talking excitedly over each other about "principal photography" and "post-production" as if they actually knew what the words meant. After all her years of being involved in professional acting, you'd think that they would listen to her, but no. Mac still thought the boom was Frank's "explosion guy." She would've left with them, but they'd had a huge lunch crowd (eight customers? What the shit was that? Did people have nothing better to do on a Saturday morning?) and she couldn't leave. Besides, she'd taken to double dropping only when they were out after Dennis admitted to taking the difference from her purse. If they didn't see her do it, they couldn't prove she had.

Charlie had left even before Mac and Dennis. The Waitress had a salon appointment today, or a job interview, or a date, or some other stupid bullshit that Dee didn't care about. What was even the big deal with the Waitress anyway? Her breasts were underwhelming and what was the deal with her eyes? There was just something off about them. And ugh, her hair. It was as if an idiot child had tried to style her Barbie's plastic hair then gave up halfway through and let a dog chew the shit out of it. Besides that, she was an absolute moron. Dee could waitress the shit out of the Waitress any day of her life, so what did Charlie even see in her?

Not that Dee even cared about what Charlie saw, because whatever, he was a dumb person.

He wasn't bad at banging for a short, repulsive idiot, though.

Not that Dee was thinking about that night. Absolutely not.

Okay, she was a _tiny_ bit thinking about it, but only because she hadn't been with anyone since it had happened. Well she had, sort of, but only two people. One of them had fallen asleep after coming from a fifteen second handy and the second hadn't known the difference between her navel and her vagina, so the awkward fumbling in the restroom at the club only counted as getting play in his mind. He'd excitedly sniffed his fingers afterwards before swaggering away. If he thought belly button lint smelled like pussy then he was a total virgin, and Dee didn't have time for that shit. She climbed out the bathroom window and sped home after that.

Sure, in the old days she would've rang up one of her former squeezes and called them dickbag until they showed up to bang her, but she hadn't had much luck with that system as of late. Maybe they had wised up to it. Maybe they had found other women. Maybe it was that the majority of them had changed their phone numbers. Whatever it was, she hadn't been able to rebang any of them in awhile, and she'd had a good thing going with her D.E.E system back when she was doing it, so she figured why not give that a go again? Except she hadn't had much luck with that either, because the ones she'd already banged were clingy as shit and she didn't want any part of that.

Which was how she'd ended up with Fifteen Second Handy and Total Virgin. She'd picked Handy because he had a smoking hot beard and a black adopted sister, and if she said no then it would make her like half a racist, and she'd picked Virgin because he was the owner of a cheese factory and had lots of money. Turned out, his daddy owned it and he was a janitor, but hey, who was she to judge? She lied on her dating profile, too.

The door burst open. Dee casually glanced up to see Dennis striding across the floor, wearing a wedding dress. His red lipstick was smudged slightly, and one of his false eyelashes hung loosely from his lid, but otherwise his makeup game was on point and he smelled of flowery perfume.

"Holy shit Dee," he began excitedly, "I felt an emotion!"

* * *

Charlie stood at the corner of the street, exactly fifty feet from the Waitress' bike. She'd leant it against the wall of the building where they held AA. Why she didn't chain her bike to the stand was beyond him, but who was he to judge her? Real love was about acceptance and support. If she didn't chain her bike, or bought the wrong shampoo, or had no idea about her horrible rat problem, or didn't lift the restraining order despite Charlie accepting these faults of hers and doing what he could to remedy any problems that arose from them, then that was just her way and Charlie wholly, unconditionally loved her for it.

Granted, he'd backslid a bit on his responsibilities there for awhile. After the science bitches failed to make him more smarter he had been kinda embarrassed about the whole calling her an idiot to her face and storming out on her and it had taken him forever to start stalking her again. Even if she vehemently denied it through copious threats of mace, she must've been glad of his heartfelt apology letter he'd sent her. He'd even written it in his own blood, so she couldn't debate how serious he was. It had taken him longer than it should've to do it, but once he swallowed his pride everything went right back to normal.

For awhile.

In a way it was kind of like skipping class in high school. Once he did it, it was all too easy to skip again, and again, and convince himself it was all right to be lazy and take time away from his responsibilities for a bit. Which is bad of him, yeah; after all, skipping that was just education, nothing serious. Skipping his stalking duties was about the Waitress and she was way more important than learning math and science or whatever. Sometimes it was hard to balance his schedule, with all of the schemes the Gang got into, and then he slipped up again and didn't stalk her for weeks.

In a way, it was sort of Dennis' fault for making them do the Bunchers. Dennis told Mac about taking the Waitress to Guigino's, then Mac told Charlie, and then the Waitress went to the public library and gave Dennis a five star rating. Even the most hopeless of romantics had weak moments when they gave up on love, and Charlie wasn't the strongest man. What had happened at Guigino's? More importantly, what had happened after? Why five stars? Did Dennis make sure her hair was silky smooth with vitamins and get rid of the rats so thoroughly that she didn't even know she had them? Did Dennis make her cheesecake, made with actual cheddar cheese and the best birthday cake mix loose change could buy? No. Yet time and time again she chose Dennis over him, giving him five stars when Dennis only ever gave her one. Disappointment and disillusionment mixed with how busy the Gang's schemes kept him (and the fact it hadn't been too long since his last break from stalking) had him giving up on her.

Then the whole thing with Dee happened . . . .

None of that mattered. When he had (completely coincidentally this time) seen the Waitress riding around on a new bike three weeks ago, he had to admit his wrongdoing (again) and get back to taking care of her. Without him, her old bike must've been stolen and even her hair lost some shine.

"Hey dude," Mac said, coming up right beside him.

Charlie jumped. "Dude! Why you gotta be sneaking up on me and shit?"

"Uh I didn't do it on purpose, I guess my ninja-like reflexes are so potent that sneaking is just like, my natural walk now." He karate-chopped the air eight times in rapid succession, with the appropriate sound effects.

Charlie frowned while he stared at him. Mac wore a perfectly-tailored suit and, as he always did when he dressed formally, two colognes. His facial hair was trimmed and his hair slicked back perfectly. His face was wet, but not with sweat; water. Also, beneath the cologne, he detected a hint of soap.

"Why are you dressed like that?"

Mac looked at the ground and kept shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. "Um. So like, Dennis and I were just doing reshoots on our movie." His voice was small, the way a child's might be when his mother asked why the vase was broken.

"Which scenes?"

"Just the ones with Dee in them. We decided to totally cut her out of the movie because she's gross." He scuffed the sidewalk.

"Yeah, so gross," Charlie forced out. "Wait so just the two of you? So who was holding the camera?"

"We paid a hooker to be camera girl."

"Wait, so . . . Dennis was being Dee? Why didn't the hooker-"

His head snapped up and he stared at Charlie, face scrunched up incredulously. "'Cause Dennis is like the best actor on the planet and the hooker was like, gross. Dude she was so ugly, it was impossible for me to get a boner. Like totally gross."

"Uh well y'know you not getting a boner from her doesn't exactly mean she was ugly, dude," Charlie pointed out tentatively.

"Charlie, you didn't see her. She had like, double-D breasts and way long, super-thick red hair, and these big green eyes with freckles on her nose and her legs were super long." He shuddered theatrically and gagged. "Like I said, totally gross."

"Uhhh I dunno Mac she sounds kinda hot to me."

"Well she wasn't!"

"Okay, okay, calm down, it's fine, you have your . . . preference and all, whatever." Charlie cleared his throat. "So why's your face all wet?"

"Well I had to take the bus here, 'cause Dennis took the Range Rover, and everyone kept staring at my face and at first I thought they were just checking me out because I'm so hot, you know? But then I caught my reflection in the window and I saw I needed to wash my face, and the bus stop dropped me off like a block away so I just popped into the gas station and washed my face in the bathroom and why are you asking so many questions?! Thought we were here to stalk the Waitress, not keep asking me weirdo questions dude I am gonna freak out if you don't stop hounding me!"

"All right, okay!" Charlie turned away from Mac. "I won't ask any more questions about the reshoots or, like, whatever."

Mac cleared his throat. "So . . . what's going on today? Are we gonna fight off some bike thieves? Because I can totally do that." With a few breathy-whistles to guide the way, Mac launched two half-roundhouse kicks and a few quick jabs into the air.

"Nah I think I scared off the last one when I barked at him. He was either a bike thief or an alcoholic trying to get inside the building but I wasn't gonna take that chance, y'know?" He shook his head. "I'm thinkin' maybe, and it's just a thought you know I don't have much 'evidence' or whatever, but like, I'm pretty sure he was the head of the bike thief community we have around here in Philly, or at least works for him, 'cause I see him around here a lot, or I used to anyway, I've kinda been slacking, but if I scared him off pretty good, maybe scare him off a few more times, he might give up on trying to steal her bike altogether man."

"That's probably true."

Charlie nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. It _was_ a pretty good idea if he said so himself.

* * *

"So have you been taking your medication then?" Dee asked, closing the lid of her laptop. She wasn't getting any hits on any of her dating profiles and the battery was running low, so there wasn't any point in keeping it on.

Dennis sat in front of her at the bar, holding a pocket mirror in front of his face while he reapplied his bright red lipstick. Both of his false eyelashes were on the floor, as he'd pulled them free, and he'd put on some lash-thickening mascara instead. He smacked his lips together. "Oh, I started taking them about two months ago or so. I was told it would help with my rage, and God knows I have a ton of rage, having to deal with you morons on a daily basis. But that's not what this is about, Dee." He snapped the pocket mirror closed and pulled up the small purse he kept in his glove box. He put all his makeup inside.

"If you just bought lip stain it wouldn't smudge and you wouldn't have to reapply so much."

"Please. As if I wear lipstick enough that smudging is a common concern of mine." He chuckled haughtily and rolled his eyes. "And the last person who should be giving out makeup pointers is you. The majority of the time I'm not sure if you're attempting a homage to Michael Jackson or masquerading as a sad crackwhore, but it's not my place to judge."

"Ugh, whatever Dennis. So, you felt something?"

He smirked at her. "Boy, did I. Did I ever." He stared off into the distance, half-smile wistful and (perfectly, Dee hated to admit) lined and shadowed eyes unfocused.

Dee waited.

"Well?!" she finally snapped, throwing her hands up in the air. "Are you gonna explain what happened or am I just supposed to start guessing?"

"Calm down, Jesus Christ Dee. I'm trying to build anticipation and suspense. I am the only one in the group capable of telling stories-well, good stories, I should say. You know, that's the problem with you guys, there's no . . . waiting for it. You just dive right in, cut to the end. You care so little for the details, the build." He tutted and shook his head.

"Whatever. So what did you feel? C'mon."

"Quit rushing me. As if you have something better to do." He snorted. "If you _must_ know, right away, you impatient swine . . . ." He shifted on his seat and cleared his throat. "I'm not entirely sure what it is I felt. I haven't felt it before, or if I have, it's been so long I don't recall." He stared off into space again, this time with his plucked eyebrows furrowed.

"Wow. That's . . . really, really sad."

He made some sort of noise with indecipherable meaning and made a shooing motion in her direction.

"It was like . . . ." He trailed off, brows knitting even closer together, and he tilted his head. "It was as if my chest was on fire-not in a painful way, although there was a somehow pleasurable ache behind my sternum. My heart was pounding, hard-not necessarily faster, but definitely harder. My skin buzzed, almost like I had some current of electricity running just underneath. My head spun and breathing was . . . so difficult, and yet I was so refreshed, so alive . . . . It was almost like being on ecstasy and weed, without the detached high. In fact it was entirely sobering. As if I had never been sober in my entire life, and suddenly everything clicked into place, made _sense."_

His spoke a low, suave tone. Dee had heard him use it hundreds of times, typically when regaling a sexual exploit, but never with a soft gleam in his eye, or a glow from his skin (though that could've been the foundation). Even his presence seemed different; softer, yet more vibrant.

"Like a shot of adrenaline right to the heart, only there was no fear, or danger; on the contrary, I'd never felt safer," he continued, lips curling up into a smile.

Dee let out a low whistle. "Wow. So what happened?"

He looked at her, suddenly focused. "What?"

"To make you feel like that?"

"Oh, I have no idea." He shrugged and Dee scoffed, rolling her eyes heavenward. "I was just filming some scenes when it happened. That's why I came here. You're a woman. Sort of. Everyone knows in terms of logic and reason and anything remotely useful in real world application women are vastly inferior, but in terms of shit like emotions and feelings, you have an advantage."

"Really Dennis? That's how you're going to ask for my help? Seriously?"

"How else would I ask?"

She had to clench her jaw to stop herself from shouting an insult at him, but only because Dennis actually feeling again was a big deal. The medication probably had a lot to do with the resurgence, and it was possible that nothing specifically had brought it crashing down on him (more of a straw that broke the camel's back situation rather than some big catalyst) but she had to know. Dennis, even if in his own dickbag way, was asking for help, and they all knew how important having emotions again had been for him, so really, she had no choice.

"Okay, fine. So walk me through this. Tell me everything that happened, maybe we can pinpoint what did it."

Dennis took a deep breath and nodded reluctantly. "Do you remember, oh I don't know-god, it was so long ago-when we decided to film our own original movie?"

"Uh that was a month ago, yeah."

"All right then, I didn't know we were being that specific-and just a few moments ago you were upset at my attention to detail. So, precisely one month ago . . . ."

* * *

 _Precisely One Month Ago_

"Um, I'm confused."

Dennis smiled as charmingly as he could and leaned forward in his seat. "Listen, Mary," he said, eyeing the nameplate on her desk. "Is it okay if I call you Mary? Or would you prefer if I called you Mrs. Hanson?"

She narrowed her dark eyes behind her glasses. "Mary's fine, and it's Miss, actually."

She was about forty pounds overweight and wearing colours that absolutely did not flatter her dark skin tone. "Naturally."

"Excuse me?" Her lips curled into an unattractive snarl.

"On your desk," he continued on, before the conversation could be derailed even further, "is the script to _Lethal Weapon 7._ It's the rough draft so it hasn't been polished, though we rarely need much editing as our scripts are almost always perfect from the beginning-just keep that in mind while we discuss this-and what we need from you, Mary, is money so we can film it. Now, we are willing to have further discussions about the price-you seemed to balk at how high it was-but keep in mind that while we will be doing the majority of the stunts ourselves, there will be some that are more dangerous than others, so there will be stuntmen and we have to pay the extras and any other actors or actresses that may be needed-"

"Also," Mac interjected, putting a warm, soft hand on Dennis' knee to stop him, "this is an action movie, so we are going to need a boom operator. Booms, and their operators, don't come cheap."

Dennis patted Mac's hand. "Very true, Mac, very true. Now normally we wouldn't need the loan, but we had a little falling out with our previous backer, if you will. He refused to give us money unless we had a full penetration sex scene involving him, and that is the exact sort of shenanigans that prevented our last film from going further than it did."

"Besides, if anyone is going to have full-penetrative sex on screen, it should be Dennis. I mean, he's just amazing in bed, he can do anything! Plus, he's very attractive."

"Thank you Mac. So, you can see how important the money is to us."

"Also, we're gonna need a lot of cheese for catering, 'cause I get nervous when I'm being filmed, and when I'm nervous, I like to eat cheese."

Dennis scoffed. "For God's sake Charlie we don't need a caterer, that's why we have Dee, she's a woman, she can cook!"

"Well I dunno guys maybe Dee doesn't want to cook for us all the time, and I didn't really like how she poisoned us that time and I kinda don't want it to happen again and I kinda worry it might if we're always making her like, cook for us for free-"

"Guys, guys," Mary said, lifting both of her hands. They all turned to look at her. Dennis removed his hand from Mac's; Mac removed his hand from Dennis' thigh. The warmth of his palm remained. "I know why you're here, I understand that, but I'm confused about why you actually think I'd give you that kind of money for this."

Dennis sucked in air between his teeth. He had grown tired of Mary's attitude, and her double chin. "Is there a man we can talk to about this? I think he'd understand us more."

"No, there isn't. Firstly, we don't give out loans for movie making-ever. We are an entirely different company. Secondly, we have never given out that much money in the entire time we've done business here. We actually have a loan cap, it's at ten thousand dollars, so even if we wanted to help, we couldn't. Thirdly, you don't own the rights to _Lethal Weapon."_

Dennis turned to Mac and Charlie. They looked as confused as he felt. He stared back at Mary. "Own the rights? What on earth are you talking about?" he managed through his incredulous chuckles.

"The copyright. You can't plagiarize things; you have to pay royalties and get copyrights."

"Wait, wait, wait, what?" Mac shook his hands violently, nose scrunched up in an almost-cute way. "That's gotta be bullshit. You're telling me that people can't just go out and film whatever they want? They have to pay for the _right_ to make movies?"

She nodded. "That is what I'm saying, yes."

Mac scoffed loudly. "I dunno what country you think you're in, but we live in America, and in America, you can do what you want."

Dennis put his hand on Mac's shoulder. "Wait, hold on baby boy, I think I've heard of this before. And I think I see what she's saying, you know, in between the lines." He smiled at Mary, even though he found her utterly repulsive. "She's saying that if we rewrite the script, change the names and the title around a little bit, then she'll give us the money."

Mac and Charlie both let out a long; "Ohhhhhhh," and Dennis winked at Mary.

"No. That is not at all what I'm saying."

Dennis smiled at her knowingly. Hey, he owned a business, he knew all about regulations and rules and having to play the game and subtext. If she wasn't allowed to full-out say that, he got it. He didn't need to make life more difficult for the poor woman. "Don't worry, Mary. I get you. You and I, we're going to have a long, very fruitful partnership together, just you wait."

* * *

". . . and then Charlie started shouting about the cheese catering and questioned my status as the most attractive member of the Gang, so I removed my shirt and that's when she had us escorted off the premises." He shook his head with pursed lips.

"What does this have to do with you feeling something? I already know you're filming _Killer Bullet_ and just for the record, that is the dumbest movie title I've heard in at least three years. Besides, aren't you playing Biggs and Mac is Murdock? I'm more interested in why Biggs is wearing a wedding dress."

"Okay, you cretin, it's as if you know nothing about basic story structure. You can't just go straight to the ending with absolutely no explanation; there's exposition, and rising action, and I swear to God it's idiots like you who write movies that leave Mac asking, quite loudly mind you, who the bad guys are and who we're supposed to root for the entire time, and I'd rather listen to his rants on physique and musculature than deal with some pimply-nosed brat turning around every five minutes to tell us to shush. I mean, shushing us! In a theatre! Who _does_ that?!"

"Can we just move on please?"

"And just so you know, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the title. That is quite possibly the best title I've ever come up with, and it's that thinking and lack of creative insight that's forced us to cut all your scenes and reshoot them with me instead, hence the wedding d

ress." He gestured a the lacy bodice of the dress with a smirk in her direction.

Anger burned hot in her gut and rose to her chest. "You deleted all my scenes?" she growled, teeth hurting from how hard she clenched her jaw.

* * *

Charlie had been stalking the Waitress almost the entire day; normally he only set aside a few hours to follow her around, but he had been slacking so much recently that he had to set aside time for an entire day to make up for it all. He could go back to his usual hours later. After the big deal he made with his apology letter, he went and fell back on laziness over one five-star rating and maybe, possibly that . . . _thing_ that happened with Dee, not that it meant anything to him.

"Dude I'm so bored, did you seriously just spend the whole day hanging outside this AA meeting? Do you think we could go in and grab a free coffee?"

"She did other stuff, too. Like, there was a job interview, and she paid a bill, and then she got her hair cut at the salon, then she threatened me with mace after she got her hair cut, so I left but then I just came back when she saw a movie in the theatre, and I kinda snuck in the back, some kid opened the door and I took my chance, and I sat a few rows behind her but kinda like, a few seats to the left so if she turned around she wouldn't see me, then she went back to her house for a awhile and then I followed her here. It was kind of a long day, bro."

Very long. Kinda boring, too. Maybe he was just having a hard time getting back into the swing of things after his break, but he didn't remember it being so boring before. That was why he usually scheduled in some Gang time in between stalking. Even married couples need to spend some time away from each other. Just because she was the love of his life didn't mean he couldn't spend time away from her, obviously.

"For real? Like, you just spent all day following her around? We could've used you bro, you could've been our camera guy and saved us money."

"I didn't know you guys were redoing scenes, man, if you told me I could've worked it in. But I dunno, you seemed kinda pissed off when you called me up and asked where I was to hang out, so I didn't think you were having fun or anything."

Mac shifted back and forth on his feet. "Dennis just sorta like . . . I think I made him mad, because he left really suddenly, I dunno."

"What did you do to piss him off?"

He ducked his head again and titled his head away, staring at the curb instead of his shoes. He mumbled something, but Charlie didn't hear.

"Huh?"

Mac mumbled again, but the only word he picked up was "filming."

"Right . . . ." he said slowly, because he couldn't hear anything but he didn't care enough to ask him to speak up.

"Hey Charlie?"

"Yeah Mac?"

"Why do you love the Waitress?"

He blinked at Mac. "What do you mean?"

He sighed and clasped his hands in front of him, staring upward. "I was just wondering _why_ you love her. Like . . . what does she do? Is it how she looks? She's blonde, right? Is it her hair? Or is it because she _is_ a waitress, like do you love like . . . _who_ she is, like her waitressness? What about her makes her like, the love of your life?"

Charlie opened his mouth to explain, but nothing came to mind. Which of course it didn't; love wasn't something one could easily explain. It wasn't like the instructions to cooking milk steak, or breaking down the basics of rat psychology to someone who hadn't studied it as extensively as he had. "You can't ask people why they love someone. There's no reason why people fall in love, you know? It just happens. You can't think about it like a Jeopardy question. It isn't book smarts, Mac."

"Yeah but there has to be a reason why you love someone. It comes from somewhere, right? Like, you fall in love with someone because they're always there for you, and they have the same sense of humour and you can talk for hours about nothing and sit around listening to music together, and like, discuss stuff that means a lot to you and talk about your hopes and dreams and shit. Like, but _why_ does it happen?"

For some reason, Charlie's hackles rose. "I dunno dude, I don't question love."

"Really? Bro, I question it all the time." He shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. "Why does it happen? Where does it come from? How do you make it go away? Because you know how like, there are people you shouldn't be in love with? Like, it's bad if you love them? Makes you a bad person?"

"Oh, right, that's what this is about." Charlie rubbed his eyebrow and eyed Mac. He had to tread carefully here. Mac would freak out and leave if he was too blatant, but at the same time he didn't want to ignore it. Everybody knew he was in love with Dennis, including Dennis. "Hey man, there's nothing wrong with being in love. The person you're in love with Mac, like, it's totally okay, it's not wrong to be in love with . . . you know, whoever you're in love with."

"I never said I was in love, dude, I'm not, I am so not in love with anyone, I was just being completely hypothetical, you know?" Not only had his pitch risen, but so had his volume. "What are you trying to say? You think I'm in love with someone? Who would I even be in love with, because I'm not. It was just a totally fake, hypothetical situation, like what would you do if you have five minutes left to live or if you had the power of invisibility."

"Right."

"Hypothetically, if you were in love with, um, someone you shouldn't be in love with wouldn't you try to pinpoint why and . . . I dunno, make it go away? Like if there was a switch or something. Wouldn't it be easier? Okay, you know how the Waitress is always telling you to fuck off and stuff? I bet that kinda gets you down sometimes, so if you could just stop loving her, wouldn't you? So you weren't constantly upset and crying and repenting for forgiveness because you know it's wrong and it's not something you're proud of and you have urges and thoughts that won't go away even though you want them to, but it's not your fault it's like, totally _his_ fault 'cause he crowds your space a lot and . . . stuff, and you know, all the liberal media saying it's okay, it just gets really hard-I mean difficult! I'm not hard! And I'm not . . . I mean, it isn't even me, it's like, totally someone else. You know what I mean?"

"Uh, not really dude, I think you're talking about something really different than what I have with the Waitress. Your issue is-"

"DUDE I TOLD YOU I DON'T HAVE AN ISSUE!"

"Okay, okay! Sorry, I mean your, y'know, hypothetical issue, it's not even the same thing, okay? Just because the Waitress is always telling me no and getting restraining orders and maybe sometimes it gets frustrating all the time and maybe I don't know if she'll ever change her mind, you know, that's just how it goes sometimes, y'know? Like did John Cusack give up when his girlfriend broke up with him in _Say Anything?_ No! He stood outside her window and played Peter Gabriel all night! That's just how love works, man. If you get knocked down, you get back up, and if you have to wait ten, twenty, thirty years to prove your love and win her affections, then that's just what you gotta do, because if you give up, then it's like saying the last ten, twenty, thirty years was a complete waste of time, and you certainly can't throw it all away because someone else comes along and makes you feel crazy." Not that he was thinking about that other person who made him feel something crazy one time, because nope. "I'm pretty sure, in another life, I'm like _married_ to the Waitress," he added vehemently, because he wasn't thinking about anyone else.

Mac snorted. "Yeah, sure, and I'm married to Dee."

The hackles that rose for no reason Charlie could understand shook and grew. "What do you mean by that?"

"Huh?"

What Charlie wanted to say was; "Are you implying that the Waitress and I aren't married in another life?" or at least, in retrospect, it's what he wished he wanted to say, because really, what came out didn't make any sense, and couldn't possibly explain the irrational anger heating up under his skin.

"Are you saying you're into Dee now?" he gritted through his teeth.

"What? Ew, no."

"Because that's kinda what it sounds like you're saying! I'm sitting here talking about the love of my life, and you're comparing her to Dee, so I dunno, maybe you're in love with Dee now?! Maybe you spend way too much time thinking about that few times you kissed and stuff, how am I supposed to know?!"

"Dude I have never kissed Dee, she is repulsive."

"You're not even really in love with her, Mac! You're just pretending to be because you don't wanna accept that-"

"Excuse me, sirs?" A police officer stood a few feet from them, holding an open notepad. "We've had a few reports of a homeless guy reeking of cheese," he read off of the paper, "barking viciously at AA members. Have either of you seen anything like that?"

Charlie shook his head. "Nope, not at all!"

"No, me either, and you know what, it certainly wasn't this guy, who I don't even know!"

"Yeah! I don't know this guy, either. And I don't even know what 'barking' is, really, or what this building is for, is this an AA building? Huh! Who'd've thunk that!"

The police officer closed his notepad slowly and narrowed his eyes. "You smell a lot like cheese, sir . . . ."

Mac and Charlie took off running.

* * *

"I am literally the only one in the entire Gang who has taken actual acting classes! I have literally spent hours and tons of money on acting!"

"Believe me, nobody is as devastated about the wastefulness of your spending habits and lack of self-awareness than I, but-"

"It wasn't a waste! I can act better than anyone here! I mean, I have tons of characters, all of them believable, and you cut me out?!"

Dennis laughed openly. "Oh, Dee. The depth of your delusion is astounding. We had no choice. Every time your face was on screen, I nearly vomited. No amount of makeup and lighting can correct that amount of hideousness. Every time your overly-rehearsed, stilted lines came squeaking out of your thin, lop-sided mouth, for hours after, I had tinnitus. Children who happened to walk under the open window while we edited the film at full volume had seizures, Dee. Seizures, borne from the horribleness of your acting and vocal chords alone. This movie-nay, masterpiece-could very well be the most important thing that has ever happened to us. The story of Michael Biggs and Roland Murdock's friendship in _Killer Bullet_ will transcend time, redefine film-making, and elevate me to the directorial Godhood I deserve. We can't have you screwing that up."

She scrunched her hands together, every fibre in her being screaming at her to choke the living shit out of her brother. "I had two scenes! Getting married and dying!"

"You had three scenes, Dee, don't be melodramatic. We're keeping the funeral."

"It was closed casket! I was stuck in the coffin for eight hours Dennis!"

"Since when has this conversation been about you? I think me feeling again is a tad more important than the perfectly logical decision to replace you. Christ, Dee, it was a wedding scene and the groom and bride didn't even kiss. That shit might fly in a _Lethal Weapon_ sequel, but not in _Killer Bullet."_

She breathed heavily through her nose, lips pinched closed as tightly as her eyes were. Acting was her passion, her raison d'être, and the only jobs she could get were in her brother and his friends' shitty YouTube movies. Now that was being taken from her? And even if the idea of kissing Mac very nearly had her in tears of disgust, she was more than willing to do so for her craft. It was proof, actually, that she was far better at acting than any of them, because Mac, as Murdock, couldn't even suppress his gayness enough to kiss her during a wedding scene.

Still, she'd grown accustomed to them treating her like shit, and as much as it pained her, Dennis had a point. Even if he had replaced her in their movie, wedding dress included, getting an emotion was big, and-

Her eyes snapped open. Dennis still sat the bar, twirling a tumbler of whisky, face and eyes aglow in a way that couldn't be entirely because of makeup.

"You were redoing the wedding scene?"

He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips at her. "Get over it, all right? It was absolutely ridiculous of us to have asked you in the first place, so I do take full responsibility for that."

It took a full-belly breath and clenching her fists to calm down. "I'm over it." No, she wasn't. "Just . . . let's just skip to when you felt something, okay? I kinda want to get to the bottom of this."

"My God, woman, I bet you're the kind of person who reads the last page of a book before she buys." He took a sip, leaving a red imprint on the glass. "But if you insist, I suppose you don't need to know every detail of my day."

"Thank God."

"So, about an hour ago . . . ."

* * *

 _About An Hour Ago_

It was a beautiful day for a wedding. The sun rose high, but it wasn't blindingly hot. The gentle breeze was just enough to rustle the surrounding leaves and grass beneath his elegant heels. The sky was cloudless and matched his cornflower blue eyes. In fact, it was so perfect that he'd even taken extra time to do a couple atmospheric shots that they just hadn't cared for with Dee. After all, there was no reason for the juxtaposition of the sky and her eyes, now was there? With her on screen, their main concern was to get it over with quickly, but now that he was filling her spot, they had to pad out the scenes. Obviously that would add emotional impact, but more importantly, it would show Dennis' diversity and talent as an actor.

With the exception of the gorgeous hooker he'd hired to do the filming, they were alone. They couldn't afford to pay people to attend the wedding, but they had done some obligatory shots of the guest the first time around with Dee. With some splicing, and careful cinematography, they wouldn't need to, anyway. There wasn't much to be done and it shouldn't take any time at all.

"Looking good there, Mac."

It wasn't even a lie. He actually did look great, though that may have been because he was wearing a suit Dennis had specifically tailored for him years ago. Normally Dennis didn't care if someone chose to look like trash, but regularly dining at Guigino's with him? Being _seen_ with him? It was embarrassing to be beside someone who didn't have any sense of style, at the (eh, debatably) best restaurant in town.

Mac predictably beamed at him. "You think?" He smoothed down the front of his suit, big, dark eyes shining bright and huge, like that of a puppy.

Dennis smirked at him. "Yeah. Real sexy."

In the afternoon light surrounded by trees, Mac was almost pretty when he blushed.

Buttering him up was a necessity, of course. It was a wedding scene. He was meant to be in love with his bride, which was a large reason why the scene with Dee hadn't made a lick of sense. Not that Dennis needed to try hard, as Mac was legitimately in love with him (unsurprisingly; what gay man wouldn't be?) but seeing as they had two scenes (three, if he counted the funeral) in which to really sell the love, it had to be laid on thick.

Mac looked at the ground, hiding his big smile. He swayed back and forth, hands clasped in front of him, before meeting Dennis' eyes with lowered lids. "I wore two colognes too. I know the audience won't be able to tell, but you will, and since I'm marrying you-I mean, you know, you're playing my bride, obviously I'm not really marrying you-I want this to be nice."

"I'm sure it will be fine. I uh, liked what you did with my death scene, in your arms. Were those real tears?"

"They were dude! I just got really into character, and with the blood on your chest, they looked like real bullet holes and I just imagined that you were actually dead! It was way easier to get emotional when it's you, y'know? And I worried that the forehead kiss was too much, but if you liked it, then it's all good right?"

"It was great."

Mac smiled warmly at him. Whether unconsciously or intentional, he also moved closer to Dennis.

"Now, while you were getting dressed, Peppermint filmed me walking down the aisle. What we're going to do now is have her film your face while I walk towards you. We didn't do any of that with Dee, of course, as the less time her face is on screen the better, but now that I'm playing the bride we are. I'll be walking down again, it's a method acting thing-it'll be easier for you to react if I do. After that, we'll face each other, and we'll do the kissing. We won't need to show the vows, it'll be far more emotional if we overlay this scene with some tasteful music-I, for one, am leaning towards an instrumental of a Journey song.

"So are you ready? You got all that?"

Mac rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh I dunno dude, about the kissing."

"Are you kidding? It's one of the reasons we're redoing this."

"It's just-you're sure? I mean, 'cause we can have her be the bride, you know?"

"And then we'd have to film the death scene all over again, and my performance-and yours, for that matter-was perfect. Besides if we're going to sell that you really love your bride, this kiss needs to be amazing, and believable, and it's just not going to happen if we have anyone else in the role, okay buddy?"

Mac glanced over his shoulder at the hooker, who held the camera at the end of the aisle. He faced Dennis again with a grimace. "Yeah you're right, she's super ugly."

Camera girl or not, he wasn't going to spend money on a prostitute-at least, not _that_ kind of money-who was less than a nine. Besides, if he played his cards right (not that it would be particularly difficult with someone in her profession) he could get banged later. And man, with the way her tits bounced when she walked, having her ride him was going to give him a spectacular show.

"Sure she is." He clapped Mac on the shoulder.

"I'm just, uh, y'know, about the kiss-"

"Oh for God's sake Mac," Dennis growled. "Now is not the time for one of your completely ridiculous gay panics."

Mac frowned, but his eyes were drawn to Dennis' mouth, very obviously.

Dennis cupped his best friend's face, drawing him closer-so close, they could kiss right there very easily. Mac's pupils widened immediately and his breath audibly shook. There was a thrill in manipulation that couldn't be replicated that pulsed in Dennis' veins; the many, many times he had flirted with Mac to get his way always left him tingling, but it was different somehow than with others.

"Listen to me," he ordered, lowering his pitch and volume, "anything we do now doesn't count. We're acting. You're not you, how can you be blamed for something that someone else did? I'm a woman here, a very attractive, albeit masculine, woman. When we pledge our love to each other at that altar, it'll be as husband and wife. For all intents and purposes, I'm a girl, so how can it be gay if you kiss me?

"And oh, you _will_ kiss me, and I'll kiss you, and it's going to be the most perfect kiss you've ever experienced. I want your mouth on mine, I want your tongue between my teeth and your taste on my lips. This isn't just any kiss, this is a pledge-a vow-of complete commitment and devotion. It's a promise that until I die, you will love no one other than me, and by God the audience will believe it or you'll never work in the film industry again."

Mac's adam's apple bobbed, breath coming in shallow spurts against Dennis' jaw, eyes fixed on his mouth still. Dennis pulled him impossibly closer; their noses nearly brushed, and he stroked his warm cheeks with his thumbs.

"I need you to kiss me, baby boy. I _want_ you."

"Okay," Mac whispered.

Dennis smiled and pulled away. "Good." He clapped Mac on the shoulder. "Now get on up there."

Despite his reluctance a moment earlier (however feigned it had to have been) Mac grinned and with a bounce, hurried up the aisle. When he made it beneath the altar, he waved. Dennis returned the wave. Peppermint reached forward to fix Mac's lopsided tie, but he pushed her hand away without even looking at her.

When Peppermint had the camera angled toward Mac's face, but with enough room for Dennis to see him perfectly, she shouted; "Okay!" and gestured for him to start walking.

Even though his scene had already been filmed, there was something about walking down an aisle in a wedding dress towards Mac that filled him with glee. Naturally, he was simply getting into character, as any trained, professional actor would take the time to do. That was what Dee didn't understand about the profession; you couldn't just simply become the character immediately. You had to take time; time away from the camera, time leading up to a scene you were involved in, to really get in depth; to truly understand the mind of the character. There were methods that simply strange accents and costumes couldn't replace.

It was astounding, really, how much better at acting Dennis was compared to literally everyone around him. Mac was the second best, naturally, but even still, he had some flaws that Dennis needed to work around. The look of disgust that seeped through when he was marrying Dee was understandable; not even Dennis would've been able to perform under those conditions. However, one look at his expression towards Peppermint a few days ago as they were scouting prostitutes told him all he needed; Mac couldn't marry a woman, ever.

However, he could marry a man. Not just any man; Dennis. No acting required, then. They didn't have much time to do the reshoots and even less to sell actual romantic desire between the bride and groom. Staring at Mac's face as he slowly made his way to him was everything he needed. The gleam in his eyes, the flow of his face, the subtle curve of his mouth, in a smile that he had seen directed at him over and over in the past few years, was exactly what he'd planned.

Mac being in love with him was such a godsend, because he could get the man to do whatever he wanted; including, but not limited to, saving their future thematic masterpiece. And really, Mac looked his most attractive when staring at Dennis anyway. At least something within Dennis continually stirred, and he had an incredibly high standard for beauty.

When he finally stood in front of Mac, his cheeks ached. Had he been smiling the entire time also? Of course he had! That was what his character would do.

Peppermint circled them, but like professionals, neither of them looked toward the camera. Instead, their eyes were fixed on each other. Dennis had no qualms in admitting he was envious of Mac's long lashes, and how elegant they were against his pale skin, or how beautifully they framed his gorgeous dark eyes. Simply put, it was easy to get lost in them, especially while in-character as a woman marrying him. (They hadn't bothered naming the female at all; she was really only written in to die, and thus fuel Murdock's revenge plot for the rest of the film, just like in real Hollywood movies).

"All right," Peppermint said, having finished her revolution, "you may now kiss the bride."

Mac's lips were soft and tasted of waxy cherry. Had he been panicking and applying lip balm in preparation? The excess of mint on the tongue that slipped between Dennis' teeth supported that theory. Of course he'd gone all out; it wasn't often he got the chance to kiss the man of his dreams, was it? And kiss him he did; kissed him gently, but with no lack in passion. It was a tad romantic for Dennis' usual fare and preference, yet it was surprisingly good. Had Mac been practising? Or was he a natural? In all honestly it was one of the better kisses he'd had; definitely in the top ten, but lacking the length to dip into the top five and ferocity for top three.

As they were going for a tasteful, traditional wedding, the kiss ended not long after it began. Too soon, in Dennis' opinion. Alas, much longer and it would've made the imaginary guests uncomfortable.

They separated, and Dennis fought the urge to chase Mac's lips. He opened his eyes slowly, colours brighter and more vivid. Had a forgotten cloud drifted in front of the sun for the past minutes, only to move during their kiss, bathing the world in light? Did Mac always smell this good, despite the clashing colognes?

The side of Mac's mouth was smudged red with Dennis' lipstick. Damn, he should've gone with Dee's lip stain, though the idea of sharing her makeup made him cringe. He cupped Mac's jaw, peering closer. The colour didn't look bad on him, actually. Maybe with a little encouragement, he could get him to wear the lipstick. He brushed his bottom lip with his thumb, smearing it more.

Mac surged forward. Dennis' heart kicked against his sternum, hard. Of course it did; Mac randomly kissed him. It surprised him. That made perfect sense. What didn't make sense was that his heart kept kicking, harder with each passing second, or that his throat constricted and dried. Shock didn't explain his head spinning and floating or his skin buzzing. Warmth filled every inch of his insides; his stomach, his groin, but mostly his chest. His skin, the gentle breeze against it was magic, and Mac's tongue was wet and gentle probing his, so gentle, and his hands were in Dennis' hair; he was so glad he'd forgone the wig in fear it would hide his glorious cheekbones just to feel Mac's fingers slipping through his perfectly coifed strands. Why was he being so soft? Why was that so maddeningly wonderful?

The kiss deepened, mouths open and drawing noises out of Dennis he'd never made before. He'd heard them hundreds of times from others; that was what Dennis did, he sucked out their moans and fed off their whimpers, and he'd never understood why they did it so readily, and why when he faked it to convince a woman to follow him into his bedroom they responded to it, but he did now. It was a release, it was liberating. He never wanted it to end, and maybe it never would. He clutched Mac's lapel, god he couldn't breathe and yet he was so refreshed, breaking the surface of the ocean after being submerged for years, the aching in his ribs somehow pleasant, he was feeling so-

He was _feeling._

He yanked away, exhaling a painful, shaky breath. "Oh my God," he croaked, throat still closed tight.

"Dennis, I didn't mean-please, I wasn't-"

"I have to go." He turned wildly to Peppermint, whose mouth was open in a perfect O and kept staring between him and Mac. "Give me that." He tore the camera form her hands. He had to hold onto this feeling before he lost it, he had to remember each sensation-Dee would know, she was a woman-not that he wanted to cut the kiss short but he had to before he lost it.

"Bro, dude, c'mon, it was-I didn't-"

"I need to leave," he shot over his shoulder as he hurried towards the Range Rover. Everything was so brightly coloured, so shiny, so beautiful, and-

* * *

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it, I don't need to hear the rest."

Dennis scoffed and glared incredulously at her. "There was the whole drive here, where I was singing along to Rick Astley-perfectly, I might add-"

She shook her head. "That's not important. I figured it out. Well, I'd figured it out awhile ago, but I just wanted to hear you say it. Kinda obvious, though, I mean you're in a wedding dress."

Dennis' eyebrows shot up his forehead. "So are you going to tell me Dee or stand there like an idiot?"

"Oh, so when it's _you_ telling the story it's all anticipation this and anticipation that and you don't know anything about storytelling and you're impatient, but when I'm the one telling the story it's-"

"Just fucking tell me!"

She sighed. "Fine, fine, but come on Dennis, I know you're not that dumb. You have to know." Dennis' eyebrows just moved further up his forehead. "Think about it. You were filming a wedding scene with Mac, and you two kissed, when you _felt_ something."

Dennis frowned and furrowed his brows. He tilted his head one way, then the other.

"Oh come _on."_ Dee stared at him; glared, actually. How could he be that dumb? Or did he just not want to get it? "Think real hard, Dennis, you dickbag."

He shook his head slightly and pointed at her, mouth twisted hideously. She braced herself for one of his rants, filled with shouts and insults that went too deep. He froze. Face and finger falling, he looked past her. He blinked quickly and slumped. "Huh."

She waited for a second to see if he would erupt, but when he didn't, she smirked. "Finally caught on then, did ya?"

"Oh my God."

"You know for Mister I-Graduated-From-Penn-State you're kinda slow as shit, aren't ya?"

"I was _filming."_

"Exactly what I-wait, what?"

"It was because I was filming! The concept of filming something, something original, filming this masterpiece, that's what made me _feel!"_ He stood from his stool, eyes as wide as his grin. "It makes perfect sense; I'm not meant to be a bar owner, working day in and out with you jerk offs for meagre pay! I'm meant to be the next John McTiernan!" He turned on his (wow, really lovely) heel and started towards the door.

"Wait, no, that's not-"

"I'm gonna head back to your apartment and call Mac; write up some new scenes to film! It all makes _sense_ now!"

"Dennis, don't, you're not-"

The bar door shut behind him, drowning out the excited squeals of; "It makes sense!" and "Of course!"

She groaned and shook her head at the ceiling. "Oh goddammit."

* * *

Mac's lungs and legs burned every time his feet pounded against the sidewalk. It wasn't that he was out of shape or anything, because he was totally in shape.. It wasn't pain from overexertion, even if it was similar, it was from being too ripped. Obviously.

"Wait, Charlie, wait," Mac gasped as he slowed to a stop. He bent over, to rest his palms on his thighs, sucking in deep breath after deep breath. His vision swam and tears burned at the corners of his eyes. "I'm just-you know-I'm ripped and like," he let out a shuddering breath, "so pumped and stuff."

Charlie had to jog back a few yards. "What's that?" he asked, as breathlessly as Mac.

"Just gotta rest a second."

Charlie put his hands on his hips, face shining with sweat. "Yeah we ran pretty fast bro."

That was one of the great things about Charlie: he always understood. Some other people might have told lies about how un-ripped Mac was or tried to convince him he wasn't in shape. He always knew that when he needed help with stalking the Waitress he could call on Mac, too, because Mac was the best friend anyone could have and knew what to do in all situations. Sometimes people didn't ask or take Mac's advice because they were dumb, but Charlie was different.

Mac pinched his lips together. The weight pressing against his chest wasn't going away; maybe it wasn't about being out of shape, or being too in shape, but something else entirely. He swallowed, his spit cutting down his throat.

"Dude can I tell you something?"

"Yeah man, anything."

Mac nodded, mind whirring and heart pumping even harder. Thinking about . . . _stuff_ and remembering certain actions that happened in the heat of the moment was one thing, but actually saying it out loud? To Charlie? Not that there was anything he needed to discuss legitimately, but . . . .

"IkindakissedDennis," he blurted before he could stop himself.

Would Charlie hate him? Would he call him a faggot? If he did, could Mac really say he didn't deserve it? Mac's brain hadn't shut up since it happened. Charlie's must've been spinning.

"Yeah that makes sense. I mean you were redoing the wedding scene and stuff and we were all kinda bothered by how you and Dee didn't kiss. So you're freaking out because you liked it too much or what?"

The burning pain in Mac's chest lessened and breathing became a little easier. Huh, maybe discussing things actually was for the best? Why else would he be feeling better? Even his legs were starting to hurt less.

"Uh no dude, it's not that, it's like . . . I mean, I did, you know, but it's sorta . . . Well. Uh. I kinda." He groaned and look around, hoping maybe something in the windows of the store would help. "It's not my fault okay! We kissed, like we're supposed to, but then he was holding my face, and he was touching my mouth but now I think he might've just been wiping some lipstick off my face, but I didn't know that at the time I thought he was just, you know, and I misunderstood so I was excited and kinda just kissed him again, and I got really into it and then he freaked out and ran off and I pissed him off dude and now he's going to hate me and I am freaking out, dude, I am _freaking_ out!"

"Whoa, whoa, now relax Mac, it's all good, it's okay."

Mac didn't see how kissing Dennis in the heat of the moment and then him running off to probably vomit was okay, but his chest wasn't as tight so maybe Charlie knew what he was talking about. "I dunno I don't think this is gonna be okay bro, you know how Dennis gets when he's pissed off," he said anyway.

"Okay but, and you're probably not gonna like what I have to say, but everybody knows, dude."

"Knows what?"

"Everybody knows that you're like, in love with Dennis or whatever. Including Dennis. So I mean, if he knows you want to kiss him, and he totally sets up a situation where you have to kiss him, why would he get mad when you kiss him?"

"I am _not_ in love with-" Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Dude, come on. That's gay, and I'm not eve-I mean, I did kiss him, but-" Charlie blinked pointedly at him. "Dude, come _on,_ do you have to do that Charlie? Bro. Not cool."

"What do you want me to say man? Pretend like we haven't seen this coming for years? I'm kinda surprised Dennis ran off and freaked out because he's never cared about your crush before, I kinda figured he was in love with you too, well as much as he can be in love with someone, I dunno if he even like, knows what that is."

Mac couldn't think of the best way to express how Charlie was wrong and he wasn't in love with Dennis or gay and this whole thing was actually proof of that, but he opened his mouth to try anyway. Before anything came to mind, his cell phone rang.

"It's Dennis," he said when he saw the name on the ID.

"You better answer it."

"What if he screams at me?"

"Uh if he was gonna scream at you he would've done it to your face after you kissed him but for sure if you don't answer the phone, he's gonna be way pissed _now."_

Charlie had a point. Besides his legs and chest didn't hurt anymore, so talking to him had clearly worked in relieving his stress. Still, he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to hear what Dennis had to say. If he didn't answer, he'd have to hear it later anyway, in person, and might even get scratched.

"Hello?" He winced in preparation.

"Hey baby boy! I'm so glad to hear your voice right now."

His wince melted. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I'm glad to hear your voice too, bro." He couldn't stop himself from grinning. He rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head, as if Dennis were there to see his most definitely blushing cheeks, even though he was miles away.

"I know you are. Hey, man, I'm sorry about running off on you earlier."

He turned away from Charlie. "About that, um, I totally get if you're angry-"

"I'm not angry."

"You're not?"

"No! In fact, the exact opposite. Look I ran off because I felt something. Something wonderful, actually."

Mac froze. "You felt something? An emotion?"

"Yeah!"

Dennis felt an emotion because they kissed? This time when Mac's chest tightened, it was out of excitement. "Oh my God, dude. Congratulations! You mean that? Seriously? You're not just winding me up?"

"Completely serious!"

"Holy shit!" Even if it was a little gay, the fact Dennis was feeling something, that had to be a good sign! God wouldn't give Dennis an emotion over kissing him if it was bad, would he? Every time Dennis went overboard trying to feel something again, he lied and cheated and stole and one time, dug up his mom's corpse (and appropriately, the emotion he felt was bad, which made sense as God needed to punish him for that) but having a good feeling? God was rewarding them! God didn't reward wrongdoings!

"That's actually why I called you, Mac. See, I want to feel that way again."

Mac couldn't tell if his heart had stopped beating or started beating double-time. "You mean that?" he asked, voice small and eyes watering but he couldn't, _wouldn't,_ hope that he'd heard him correctly without confirmation.

"I absolutely mean that. So can I count on you to be here?"

"You can always count on me."

"See you soon, then. I'm waiting." He hung up without saying goodbye. Dennis always did like to be dramatic.

Mac turned to grin at Charlie, stuffing the phone back in his pocket. "Dennis is in love with me so I kinda gotta go." He pointed over his shoulder.

Charlie nodded. "Get going, then."

* * *

Three more people had come in since Dennis left, and none of them appeared homeless so Dee had already double-dropped two of them. Not that she felt guilt in double dropping homeless people, but they didn't have money for her to steal so it was pointless. She was in the money making business, all right? Whatever she had to do in order to get her hands on some of that sweet, sweet cash, she did. At least she took the money the hobos offered, even if it wasn't much. Other bars around town turned their nose up at the homeless, as if they were too good for their loose change and gum wrappers. As far as she was concerned, she was glad they were all alcoholics and wasted the change people gave them on drinks. They were more loyal than these other dickbags, and while loyalty didn't prevent her from stealing from customers, it still made them cooler in her eyes.

The door opened and she glanced up from the bar, which she was wiping down (not out of cleanliness, but so she had an excuse to lower her chest and give the richest looking guy sitting by the jukebox a good view of her cleavage) to see Charlie.

He plopped down on the duct-tape covered seat in front of her. "Hey Dee."

"Oh, finally showed up to work huh? Done creeping on the Waitress for the day then?"

"Hey I worked a little this morning."

"Popping into the bar to tell me you were leaving to stalk the Waitress doesn't count as work."

"It does if I clocked in."

"We don't clock in, Charlie."

"That explains a lot . . . ." He narrowed his eyes, then stared blatantly at her breasts that were supposed to be on display for Jukebox Guy, but he was too busy texting. Probably gay, then. "Your boobs are looking pretty nice today, Dee. Another date?"

"Gross," she scoffed, although she did puff out her chest a bit more in Charlie's face. It was better for someone to appreciate them than no one. "And nope, not going on any dates."

"Well I just thought 'cause you were looking at dating profiles this morning you'd have at least ten dates by now. What's wrong? Are the guys online being extra stupid today? Bet you were turning them down left and right or something."

Dee tried not to smile, really, but she failed. It wasn't her fault, though. When Mac and Dennis weren't around, Charlie didn't bother throwing insults at her left and right. She wasn't sure if he even realized he was complimenting her when he did. But she had to be careful-those compliments led her down a deep, dark (and sexier-than-it-should-have-been) path in the past.

"Actually the dating sites were pretty much dead, but then Dennis had some stupid crisis about feeling something that I had to take care of, so I didn't get to look in the evening and that's usually when people start getting horned up so he kinda twat-blocked me."

"What?"

"Twat-blocked. It's the same as cock-blocking, but geared towards vagina-owners. It's my own little way of fighting the patriarchy, if ya know what I mean." She waggled her eyebrows at him. God, sometimes it was ridiculous how goddamn smart she was.

"No, about Dennis."

"Oh, he and Mac kissed and he felt something."

"Yeah I heard that. He called Mac and stuff. I guess he's in love with Mac now. So he talked to you about all that?"

Dee scoffed and rolled her eyes. "He's so retarded. It's totally obvious that he felt something because he kissed Mac, it was plain as the beaver on Donald Trump's head, but he ran off thinking that he felt something 'cause he was filming a goddamn movie."

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

Charlie shifted awkwardly on the bar stool. "So uh, when he called Mac, he wasn't asking him to show up so they could kiss or whatever? He just wants to film more stuff?"

Dee nodded. "Yeah, so what?"

He shrugged, and stared at her breasts again. It wasn't entirely his fault, though, as she was wiping the bar directly in front of his face. "Never mind."

"Eyes are up here, Charlie."

"Oh, sorry." He forced his eyes to meet hers and smiled in an almost child-like way. "Hey, Dee? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What?" She batted her lashes and smiled at him, though she didn't want to examine why.

"That homeless guy in the corner's jacking off, huh?"

"Holy shit, he's been masturbating the whole time. He's got crazy stamina, like you'd have thought he'd have popped off at some point. I swear he's been going at it for at least an hour, that's insane."

"Wow, really? A whole hour?"

"Right? I mean what's the point in that? You're jerking off, not wooing the Queen of England!"

Charlie laughed and nodded, then turned to watch the homeless guy with Dee. He was still pounding pud, as casually as ever. Sometimes, owning a bar was its own entertainment.

* * *

Dennis paced in front of Dee's small couch. He hadn't bothered to take off the wedding dress yet, as they might have to redo the scene given he'd ran off after only one take. The day wasn't yet over and he'd paid Peppermint for a full twenty-four hours just in case. If they needed, they could go find her.

Knowing that filming was his passion, his raison d'être if you will, had everything clicking into place. There was absolutely no reason why that wedding kiss should have made it to his top ten whatsoever, except that he was filming _Killer Bullet_ and it put him in an exceptionally good mood. After all, what else explained why he'd kept noticing how beautiful Mac was with pink cheeks or big doe eyes as he stared at him walking down the aisle? Nothing, save for that he was destined to be the best goddamn director in existence.

Mac burst into the apartment, breathing heavily and grinning widely. He stopped a few feet from Dennis, staring at him with an expression similar to that of a puppy. "Hey," he greeted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"About time you got here. I was starting to worry you'd changed your mind, which would've pissed me off."

"No, no mind changing."

"Good. So are you ready or what?"

Mac nodded enthusiastically. "I am if, if you are."

Dennis raised his eyebrows at him. "Well come on then."

Mac strode the last few feet towards him, grabbed his face, and pulled him into a kiss. Dennis could have pulled away, but he didn't, despite being shocked as shit. So shocked, in fact, that his heart forgot the proper rhythm with which to beat, and his lungs ceased to function the way they normally did, and everything, everything, came rushing at him with the force of a hurricane; all the feelings from before, but all at once and so hard his knees almost gave out. His ears burned, his hands shook, but otherwise he froze. Overwhelming; this kiss was overwhelming, but in the most exciting and wonderful of ways.

Mac pulled away, hands still cupping his jaw and toes touching. Dennis hadn't closed his eyes, or breathed, for three emotionally-taxing seconds. "Whoa," he breathed out, a weight he'd had for years lifting from his shoulders and stomach and mind.

"Dennis?"

"It was you." His lipstick smeared across Mac's mouth again, and god if that was hotter than it had any right to be. Dennis held his face, peered into his beautiful brown eyes, gorgeous eyes, until he saw his own reflection in them. "You, you made me feel, Mac, you make me _feel."_

This time, it was Dennis who kissed him. Hard.

It was too wet with too much tongue and teeth and movement; Mac moved his head too often and his hands wouldn't stay still, but nobody had ever accused either of them of taking things in moderation. Everything, his alcohol consumption, his desire for power, his ability at everything he attempted, was in excess, so why not this? He felt too much. He kissed too much. He wanted Mac too much, wanted him to need, want, Dennis more than he feared God, feared Hell, and that was what he got; Mac's tongue in his throat and nails at the back of his neck.

Mac being in love with him was old news, but it being reciprocated? Sure, he had exploited the shit out of his faggotry a million times and certainly wasn't averse to banging men, but this was new to him; it shouldn't have been, but it was. It wasn't his fault. Emotions were as foreign to him as fashion sense seemed to be for anyone else in the Gang. But if this is what it meant, and if this was how it felt, then by god he was going to exploit the hell out of it for himself, and revel in it, as he would with cocaine or any other mind-altering substance.

"Fuck me," he demanded, waxy lipstick bitter on his tongue

Mac nodded, and resumed kissing him. Slowly. So maddeningly slow, but so hot. Dennis' cock throbbed against his lacy underwear, and his chest ached and his fingers clutched at Mac's suit, and he whined. _Whined._ Mac had him fucking whining for Christ's sake. He'd care about how pathetic that was, if he wasn't about to get fucked by a man who had been holding back for years.

They made their way-slowly, ever so goddamn fucking slowly-to Dee's bedroom. Yet, as loathe as he was to admit it, Dennis _liked_ it. He liked being able to explore the inside of Mac's mouth and memorize his taste. He liked scratching down the back of his suit, and slipping his fingers into his slicked-back hair. He liked when they took a break from moving, when he kissed Mac into the door, wrists pinned against the solid wood behind him. He marked him up, bit his neck, sucked the teeth marks, licked his adam's apple, nibbled his lip; he did it all. He tortured him as much as he was being tortured.

"I'm so hard for you, baby boy," he murmured when they finally made it inside Dee's bedroom.

"You are?" Mac had the audacity to sound so innocently excited and surprised. "Holy shit, me too dude. So hard." He licked Dennis' bottom lip.

"Suck me, then."

Mac dropped to his knees and flung Dennis' dress over his head. "You're wearing a garter, bro?"

"Hell yeah I am."

"That's hot."

Dennis smirked. "I know."

Mac pulled his panties down and Dennis stepped out of them. Mac tossed them behind him, and then slurped his dick right into his hot, wet mouth. It was sloppy and uncoordinated. He gagged easily and moved too quickly with hands and lips wrapped too loosely around his cock. Yet, for all that it lacked (which was admittedly a lot) it more than made up for it with enthusiasm. It was wet, and alleviated the ache that had settled in his balls, and for no logical reason, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed it far more than he should've, given how amateur it was, but god, it was _Mac,_ and somehow that was all Dennis needed; wanted.

He tilted his head back and moaned; focused less on what needed improvement, and more on the warm wetness. Saliva slipped down his shaft, his tongue undulated beneath, throat tightened every time he went down and gagged, and the tiny moans he made shot straight up to his chest and clenched his heart.

"Get on the bed," Dennis ordered.

Mac obeyed. Red smeared the lower half of his face, pale face flushed and lips shining wet with saliva. He sat on the centre, grin wide and chest heaving with breath, resting on his elbows. Dennis knelt between his spread knees and held his face. "I'm gonna show you how it's done," he growled, then pushed him.

Mac bounced on the mattress and Dennis wasted no time in undoing his belt and yanking down the zipper. His cock sprung free, pulsing with what must've been his heartbeat. By the looks of things, he was close to bursting. Now Dennis didn't have any problems swallowing-in fact, there were days he craved a mouthful of cum-but that wasn't what the end goal was for him today. "You were free-balling it?"

"Yeah, I mean, I was kinda in a hurry, so-"

"Makes things simpler. But how about a rain check for the suck job dude? I wanna ride you now. That okay, baby boy?"

"You have _no idea."_

He leaned over towards Dee's bedside table. Beside Steven-and wow, did he hate that he knew her dildo's name-was a bottle of lubricant and condoms. Thank God his sister was a filthy slut. Not because of the condoms, because like hell either he or Mac would wear them, but the lube.

He straddled Mac, aligning their dicks and stroking them with a lathered up hand. Mac threw his head back with eyes closed tight with a tense; "Ah, ahh!" and Dennis chuckled. He was as aware of Mac's sex life as his own; it had been months since he'd got laid.

He tossed the bottle aside. It clunked against the floor and Dennis impaled himself on Mac. Mac's eyes snapped open with a half-shout and Dennis sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh my God it's so good," he gritted through clenched teeth.

The burn in his hole matched the burn in his chest and along his skin. He was fucking Mac, he was _fucking his best friend._ His dick was buried deep inside him, and every time he pushed down Mac thrust up with a high-pitched; "Ah!" then got louder and louder every second.

He pushed his dress out of the way so he could fist his own thick shaft. Slow at first, as slowly as he fucked, but Mac wasn't going to last long and Dennis needed to come with a dick in his ass; needed the swollen head of a cock slamming against his prostate while he shouted his release, and he wasn't going to accept anything else.

So he sped up; jerked his hips and dick back and forth, mirroring Mac's shouts and fuck, it was so good, so goddamn fucking good, Jesus he was fucking himself on Mac's hard dick and he never wanted it to end. He bucked harder, faster, hand a blur over his reddening cock. "Are you gonna jizz in me? Gonna fill me up? Christ I want you to fill my ass, fucking cum in me, fuck! Are you gonna cum for me baby boy, gonna fill me?"

"Dennis, I'm-I'm gonna-I can't-"

He slid his wet palm faster, harder, tighter over the head of his cock; he was close.

Mac came, loudly and crying, hips thrusting wildly upward while he clutched wildly at the sheets. His cum was warm and wet and shooting inside him, and Dennis stared at his doing; or rather, Mac's undoing. Head thrashing back and forth, skin red and sweaty with exertion, shouting and swearing. It was goddamn beautiful; a masterpiece, and all because of Dennis.

It hit him hard and suddenly. He grunted and shouted and jerked himself all over Mac's stupidly expensive suit, destroyed it with his semen, wanted to wreck it the way he wanted his asshole wrecked, wanted to leave a mark on something, on someone, to commemorate an orgasm that didn't end with physical stimuli, but emotional. No wonder people fucked those they loved; it was _awesome._

He collapsed, cock leaking and throbbing as much as the one still in his hole. He shifted to get his bent knees in a more comfortable position, and Mac slipped out of him, sending a shiver of pleasure up his spine and he moaned.

Mac slid his hands up his arms, and instead of the post-coital numbness he'd grown accustomed to, he tingled. Everywhere. He gasped into Mac's wrinkled jacket, relishing the buzz that followed his fingers trailing along his skin.

He rolled off of him, which took more effort than usual, stared at the ceiling, still trying to catch his breath, head still spinning and chest aching and bones thrumming.

"Oh my God Dennis, that was _magical!"_ Mac gushed beside him. Dennis turned his head to stare him. Mac beamed at him, mouth red and eyes huge and face shiny with sweat; hair a mess, jacket rumpled and tie wrinkled and loose. "That's the best I've ever had! Wow!"

Dennis smiled. "It was pretty amazing." His dress was scratchy against his sweaty skin, and rough against his softening dick.

Mac lurched forward, then stopped a suddenly as he started. "Can I kiss you? I wanna kiss you."

"I'd like that, yeah."

Normally Dennis didn't care for post-coital kissing and cuddling, not since Maureen in high school, but this was . . . _different._ And despite its softness, and slowness, when Mac slipped a hint of tongue between his lips and hummed, it shot straight to number one kiss of his life. It was dizzying in its gentle nature, and the longer they kissed, the better it was, and yet never hastened or roughened.

When the kiss ended, it was Dennis who hummed.

Mac blushed and ducked his head, as if that could hide his grin, then met his eyes again. "That would've made a killer honeymoon scene, dude."

Dennis smirked. "Yeah, it would have . . . ."

"You wanna go again?"

"I'll get the camera."


End file.
